One Dough, Two Treats

In these trying times—to say nothing of this age of specialization—it’s impossible to have too many muses, which is why I’ve got a pantheon of them lined up, each ready to be pressed into service when they’re most needed.

I’ve got the important bases covered. For example, for fashion I’ve got Coco Chanel, who famously designed all her clothing with the idea that women should be comfortable. She’ll always give me the thumbs-up for wearing little flats to big dinners, and it makes me feel so much better when those tall, sylph-like models float by on their impossibly high heels (the ones I’m going to wear—even at breakfast—in my next life).

And for money, Mies is my muse. I’m sure the architect is puzzled every time I call on him, but whenever I get ruffled by the mandate to “do more with less,” I take a deep breath, channel van der Rohe, and chant “Less is more,” the mantra he made his own. It never changes things, but doing more with less is so tough and being Miesian about it is cool—or at least as cool as frugality can get.

But even in difficult times, a girl’s gotta have some fun—and some good food to go with it—so when December rolls around, my friend John Bennett, a chef from Oklahoma City, gets tapped as Muse-in-Chief. I haven’t asked him, but my guess is that John has never uttered the phrase “Less is more.” John lives by the adage “Anything worth doing is worth overdoing,” and I could hear him as I began baking for the holidays.

Afraid that I might be on shaky ground, I asked him whether it was really okay to turn the sweet dough into even sweeter brown-sugar-and-honey-topped sticky buns. “Yes!” said John. And after kneading more of the dough with lots of chocolate and cranberries, did I really have the nerve to top the brunch bread with streusel? “Yes!” was the answer and I think I heard the “Hallelujah” chorus in the background.

‘Tis the season, and these holiday recipes are made for the moment. Like the best presents under the tree, they’re generous, surprising, and beautiful. And they come with a bonus: They’re delicious.

If you’ve ever made brioche, you’ll see that the dough I use for the buns and bread is like brioche dough, but not as rich. Even with John whispering over my shoulder, I cut back a little on the normal amount of butter and eggs because I knew I was going to go overboard on the toppings and fillings. The dough is still luxurious and still, like brioche, as soft as batter even after you’ve beaten it for a long time—that’s because of the butter, eggs, and sugar. I don’t know which muse inspired me to add spices (John, again?), but thank you—these flavors lend the French classic a very American accent.

You’ll need a heavy-duty stand mixer to give the dough the workout it demands. And you’ll need to allow the dough a few leisurely rests and chills. (When you’re working with rich dough, it shouldn’t be a surprise that it wants to behave like a pampered princess.) You beat for texture, and you rest and chill for flavor, rise, and workability—shaping this dough is impossible unless it’s well chilled.

Happily, the chill also holds the dough, so one batch will make a weekend’s worth of sweets. You can have sticky buns one morning, or even two: The dough—once rolled out, smeared with butter, dusted with cinnamon sugar, and rolled up like a pinwheel—can be cut and baked, or chilled, or even frozen. Depending on the size of your crowd, you can make all the buns or just a few. You’ll have to adjust the size of the pan and the amount of honey-brown-sugar-and-pecan topping, but it’s worth doing a little math for the convenience.

And the bread… ah, the bread. I’m in love with this loaf. You can have it fresh from the oven for brunch and then, the following day, if you haven’t polished it off, you can have the best treat: a thick slice of the streusel-topped loaf toasted and slathered with butter while it’s still finger-burning hot. Butter on buttery bread… I know, it sounds a bit much; but if you’re the least bit hesitant, call John. Listen to him and you won’t just butter your bread—you’ll put jam on it, too.